The Sheikh's Contract Bride

Talking Malik out of this tradition made perfect sense for everyone. Putting herself in his shoes—knowing that his bride had been chosen and he’d had no say in the matter—maybe she had a better than even chance of making him see reason. For God’s sake, he was going to be King. Shouldn’t he have a choice about the woman who would help him shoulder that responsibility?

She looked up at him. “Sometimes change is good. Shake things up.”

“Sometimes the old ways are better.”

“All right,” she said, tapping her lip. “But you never answered my question about whether or not you’re okay with not choosing your own bride.”

“There are advantages to letting others with nothing clouding their objectivity do the picking.”

“Picking?” She put her hands on her hips as she met his gaze. “You make me sound like a ripe plum.”

“On the contrary, plums are sweeter and more docile. Aside from those two things—” he shrugged “—I am well pleased with the selection my father made.”

Beth didn’t know if she’d just been complimented or insulted. Or both.

“Well, of course you’re pleased. What’s not to like?”

“Please explain.” He folded his arms over his chest and gave her his full attention.

“An arranged marriage works in your favor because you’re a powerful man.”

He shook his head. “I do not understand what that has to do with anything.”

Was he deliberately being obtuse? “Being in a position of power means you get to control everything. You can set the rules. Nothing about this situation works in my favor.”

“Nothing?” He frowned. “Do you find me unattractive?”

“No.” What she wanted to say was Good God, no. “You’re very handsome.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Does my personality displease you?”

“Since we just met, it’s too soon to tell. So far you seem okay.”

He nodded. “Is the palace not to your liking? You object to living here?”

“Oh, please. What I’ve seen of it is gorgeous, and you know it.”

“Then I am at a loss to understand your objections.”

“My objections have to do with the fact that there’s more to marriage than pleasing looks, personality and a palace.” When put like that, it occurred to her that perhaps her standards were a tad high. “There’s something to be said for a normal courtship.”

“Define this for me.”

The fact that he needed a definition for normal should have been a big clue. But she was supposed to be impersonating her sister, and Adina was nothing if not cooperative. “Okay. The average courting ritual goes like this: girl meets boy. Girl is wildly attracted to boy. Girl gets to know boy and falls in love. Bha’Kharian tradition for choosing its Queen is robbing you of this experience.”

“Me?” he asked. “Or you?”

“Both of us.”

“In the spirit of girl getting to know boy, I am told that I am quite a catch.”

She’d heard her father tell Adina the same thing. “It’s just that marriage is a big step, and pretty scary when one doesn’t know one’s intended from a rock.”

He walked over to the French doors and looked out for several moments, then turned. A frown had replaced the good-natured expression on his face. “I do not believe anyone has ever compared me to a rock.”

“That’s just an expression. It means that I don’t know you—”

“I understand the expression. But there is something I do not comprehend. In your training to be the Queen of Bha’Khar, it should have been explained that the period of engagement is the time to become acquainted.”

“It was explained.” Probably. But the step-by-step rules of courtship were still being violated. Father picks boy. Girl is engaged to boy. Girl meets boy and, after too brief a time, girl marries boy. And they live happily ever after? The odds were so against that.

She walked over to him and the breeze from the ocean cooled her face. Looking into his dark eyes, she asked, because she sincerely wanted to know how he felt, “What if it goes badly? What if you don’t like me? What if I don’t like you? What if we—?”

He touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “Do you always borrow trouble?”

“What if I do? Is that a deal-breaker?”

He laughed. “If I did not know better I would think you are deliberately trying to make me dislike you.”

“Is it working?”

“I do not know.”

“Do I need to try harder?”

“That depends on your purpose. I have not yet made up my mind about you. And you should not form an opinion about me, either.”

“I’m not pre-judging—”

“I disagree. You came all this way to talk me out of this marriage, which means you have already closed your mind to the possibility that this arrangement could be a good thing.”

She didn’t see how it could be good, but that only proved his point. “What if I have formed an opinion already?”

He took a step closer. “Let go of your preconceived ideas.” He touched his finger to her chin, nudging it up so their gazes locked. “Give me a chance to prove that I am indeed a good catch.”

Beth didn’t know whether to let out the breath she was holding or breathe deeply and overdose on his spicy, exciting scent, letting it invade and conquer her senses. A gleam stole into his eyes, a look that both excited and unnerved her. It was a purely masculine expression, full of male confidence in his power to get what he wanted.

There was little doubt in her mind that he would pull out all the stops in his mission to prove his worth, and seduction was right at the top of his list. While her romantic parts quivered with enthusiasm, her rational parts struggled to prevail.

“Malik, I have no doubt that you’re a perfectly nice man. It was not my intention to insult you, and I apologize if I have.”

“Your misgivings are understandable.”

She wasn’t sure if his easygoing manner made the situation better or worse. Although he was very attractive and charming, she had no reason to believe he was any different from the man who had discarded her in favor of his already chosen, politically correct wife. If anything, Malik was more powerful, and therefore more dangerous.

If it was up to her, she would tell this sheikh to take a flying leap. But it was Addie’s choice. And, because her sister was choosing a time out, Beth was there to make sure she had it. In that spirit, she needed to dial down her opposition. “Thank you for your patience, Malik.”

“You can repay me with patience of your own. Let us get to know each other. We will give it a chance and see what happens. Then if either of us has doubts we will choose an appropriate course of action.”

In essence, he was asking for a truce. It would make things easier if he was a jerk and she could tell him what to do with his engagement.

On the other hand, if Malik decided this arrangement didn’t work for him either, and called off the wedding, Addie would be off the hook and their father couldn’t hold it against her. So, truce it was.

She smiled. “How can I say no?”

Nine out of ten women would be overjoyed to be his betrothed, yet Malik found himself with number ten. Surprisingly, the idea did not rankle as he would have thought. Obedience was a pleasing characteristic in a woman, but after meeting Beth he realized a fawning fiancée would be boring.

He was most curious about this lovely, stubborn young woman who challenged him at every turn. When she’d called him a powerful man, the edge in her voice had warned him it was not a compliment. Oddly enough, he was looking forward to this courtship, to the opportunity for changing her mind about him and discovering the source of her misgivings about marriage.

Malik walked into his dining room and touched the control that lowered the chandelier illumination to a romantic glow. Then he lit the candles on either side of the fragrant flower arrangement gracing the table. He had a bottle of the finest champagne cooling in a silver bucket and crystal flutes waited expectantly, as did he.

Beth would be here any moment, and the dance of learning about each other would continue. Excitement hummed through him, and he realized he had not experienced such a level of anticipation in longer than he could remember. Of course, it had been a long time since he had met such a fascinating woman. The last time it had happened he had been fooled. It was comforting and convenient to know there was no chance of repeating the same mistake with his betrothed.

He checked his appearance in the beveled gilt mirror in his suite’s circular entryway. Every hair was in place, and he’d shaved a short while before—in case he kissed her, which he very much wanted to do. His silk shirt, open at the collar, and his dark pants evoked just the right informal tone, which was important, as he wished to put her at ease.

He heard a knock, so soft it would not have been audible had he not been standing near the door. Beth stood in the doorway, a vision of heaven in a high-necked, sleeveless white linen dress with a wide black belt that drew his attention to her small waist. It was a simple, elegant look, full of sophistication. The allure was in what he could not see as much as in what he could. Then he met her gaze and noticed the wariness in her large eyes—brown eyes, filled with flecks of gold.

He bowed slightly. “Good evening, Beth. Please come in.”

“Thank you.”

As she passed him, her subtle floral fragrance filled his head with visions that had nothing to do with gardens and everything to do with twisted sheets and bare flesh. Instead of entering, she stood and looked around. Of course she would be curious.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said. “This is where we shall live after we are married.”

“About the whole marriage thing—”

“Beth.”

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“You promised to give it a chance,” he reminded her.

“Promise may not be the right word. As I recall, my exact words were ‘How can I say no?’”

He grinned. “Nevertheless, your response implied your agreement for us to get to know each other. In the spirit of that, I would request that for the duration of the evening you refrain from any negative references to a state of marriage between us.”

“Is that a proclamation?”

“It is a heartfelt plea. And, under the circumstances, it is quite open-minded of me.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, as he’d hoped they would. “So, Your Highness, can we talk about your humility?”

“Of course.” He held out a hand and indicated the French doors off the living room. “Wait for me on the terrace and I will bring champagne.”

“Is that an order?”

He did not miss the wary expression on her face, or the edge in her voice. Clearly she was expecting him to seduce her. It was a tempting thought, but that was not his plan. Not yet. No, tonight was all about charming her. There was a full moon, a warm breeze, and the fragrance of jasmine mixed with the scent of the sea. Mother Nature would wrap them in romance.

“Not an order. A suggestion. I simply thought you would enjoy the view and the fresh air.”

“I see.” Without further protest or a backward glance she walked through the living room and onto the terrace.

Malik opened the champagne and poured golden liquid into flutes, then carried them outside. He handed one to Beth.

“To what shall we drink?” he asked.

After thinking for a moment she said, “Loyalty.”

That seemed an odd choice, but with his own painful lesson fresh in his mind he highly approved of her toast. “And honesty.”

As they touched glasses, a musical tinkle sounded. Then Beth sipped from her flute as she gazed out over the sea. The moon’s light created a silver path on the water, and the rhythmic cadence of the surf on the shore drifted up.

“Great view,” she said.

“Yes.” But his gaze was not on the sea. Malik was wondering if there was a more beautiful sight in the world than Beth by moonlight. And if his thoughts continued in that manner he was not at all certain he could resist her. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he said, studying the long, graceful column of her neck revealed by her upswept hair.

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what happened to make you believe that love is not all it is cracked up to be.”

“Oh, you don’t really want to know about that.”

“On the contrary. I believe it is at the heart of your resistance to marriage.” Sipping from his glass, he studied her as she weighed his request.

“All right. There was a man. I met him when I was in college and there was an instant connection.”

“You are in love with this man?” The idea produced a knot of resentment in him that seemed out of proportion to the amount of time he had known her, and that vexed him.

“Not anymore.”

“But you were?”

“I thought I was.”

“What happened?”

“He made me believe I was the only woman for him. Then he broke my heart when he married someone else.”

The knot inside him eased somewhat and made rational thought easier. Then he realized something. “Surely you were aware that, as my betrothed, you are not permitted to give your heart to another man?”

“It was only my heart, Malik. To my everlasting shame, I couldn’t help it. But at least I didn’t compound my mistake by sleeping with him.” She did not look away, but met his gaze directly.

They had just toasted honesty, and he had no reason to doubt her. “I believe you.”

She sat on the low stucco wall surrounding the terrace and sighed. “I bet you’re sorry you asked.”

“Your candor is refreshing. The truth is not always easy, but it is preferable to pretense.”

She was just sipping champagne and started to cough.

Malik sat next to her and took her glass. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “I swallowed wrong.”

“I do not like it when that happens. I also do not like the thought of you and another man.” That was the truth.

“As the relationship ended badly, there’s no real harm done.”

“I disagree.”

“So you’re going to hold it against me?” Was that hope in her voice? “If so, there’s always the option of calling off the wedding. I can certainly understand if that’s what you decide to do. Just say the word and I’ll go back to America and—”

“On the contrary,” he interrupted, noting that when she was nervous she was inclined to talk too much and too fast. “I believe a woman whose heart has known love once is more likely to look for it again.”

“Even though I told you I don’t want to be in love?”

“Even then.”

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head and her full lips pulled tight. “I never want to feel that way again.”

“Why?”

“If I’d never loved I never would have cried. And I promised myself it was the last time I would cry over a man.”

He could understand the sentiment. He had made himself a similar promise about not being vulnerable to the charms of a woman. In his father’s esteemed opinion Malik had shown poor judgment, and it could not happen again. Yet Malik’s duty was to marry and produce an heir to succeed him on the throne. A love that burned him like wildfire would be unacceptable. And that was why marrying the woman chosen by his father was the solution. With Beth he could aspire to a fully contained warmth and respect.

Their shoulders brushed as they sat side by side and stared into the romantically dimmed light of the suite. Malik felt the soft skin of her forearm graze him and flames of desire heat up his blood.

“I feel compelled to point out that our betrothal is a good thing in light of your experience.”

“How do you figure?”

“You can have all the benefits of marriage to the King of Bha’Khar without the messiness of dealing with love.”

“So I can be like a man?” She met his gaze. The gleam of mischief mixed with challenge darkened her eyes.

The look was growing on him, but in no way prepared him for what came next. She smiled a smile that seemed to steal all the air from his lungs.

He picked up one of her small hands, then touched his lips to her knuckles. Satisfaction filled him to see the gleam in her eyes replaced by awareness. But, like her, he did not wish to be vulnerable to love. He was most pleased that they were in agreement, because his betrothed was quite a tempting combination of spirit and beauty. Theirs was a contract, a business arrangement, and that suited him well.

He brushed his thumb over the spot on her hand that he’d just kissed. “I cannot order or proclaim that you fall in love with me. But, little one, you will never be like a man.” His voice dropped into the deeply seductive range. “And this man is extraordinarily grateful for that fact.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE next morning Beth stood on her balcony with a cup of coffee in her hands while she looked out over the sea. Memories of last night clicked through her mind like a sensual slide show. Malik smiling his charming smile. Malik telling her he was glad she wasn’t a man and kissing her hand. Her wanting to feel his lips pressed against her own, followed by disappointment when he didn’t kiss her. Then the crushing guilt because she’d forgotten why she was there.

She leaned her hip on the low wall as the breeze caressed her face. Malik Hourani was not what she’d expected. He was kind, considerate and romantic. Damn him. If he didn’t mess up soon, and do something to make her dislike him, the consequences couldn’t be good. There was no way to put a positive spin on this charade. She was lying to Malik and her soul was doomed to the seventh level of hell. What was more, she deserved it.

She walked into the suite and picked up her cellphone, intending to call Addie and beg her sister to end this. Before she could put in the number, the phone attached to the landline rang.

She picked it up. “Hello?”

“Good morning.”

There was no mistaking that deep velvet voice. “Malik. Good morning.”

“I trust you slept well?”

“Never better,” she lied, and realized the lies were getting easier, in spite of her resolution to tell as much of the truth as possible.

“I am glad to hear it. I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“If I tell you it wouldn’t be a surprise. But I will come for you in an hour.”

“Where are we going?”

“You are attempting to trick me into revealing the surprise.”

“Actually, I need to know what to wear.”

“Dress casually.”

Casually? That could mean anything, from jeans to a silk lounging outfit. “Casual as in sundress? Or casual as in pants?”

“Jeans,” he said. “And that is all I will say.”

The line went dead. Before she could stop it, excitement arced through her. In her life, surprises had been few, and usually bad. Her mother had walked out and her father wasn’t the warm, fuzzy type. The man she’d loved had married someone else. But the pleasure in Malik’s voice made her believe his surprise was something good, and she hurried to get ready.

In precisely an hour the Crown Prince showed up at her door, wearing jeans, a loose white cotton shirt and boots. He refused to say where they were going, but escorted her to the car he had waiting. A few minutes later they drove past white slat fencing that looked a lot like horse corrals. When the car stopped in front of a stable she had a very strong feeling that her good surprise was going to turn bad.

“Why are we here?” she asked, as he took her hand to help her from the back seat.

“I wish to show you the horse that my brother Kardahl purchased for you when he visited his wife’s family. The mountain people raise some of the finest horses in the world.”

Beth walked with him into the stable’s shaded interior and realized the jig might very well be up. In finishing school, along with learning etiquette, how to throw elaborate dinner parties and protocol, Addie had become an accomplished horsewoman. Because all the royals were avid riders, it would be expected of the King’s wife. On the other hand, Beth had never been on anything besides a carousel pony.

“I don’t know what to say.” After so many lies, it almost felt good to tell the truth.

“Come and meet the mare,” he said, taking her hand. He led her to the stall where the animal stood waiting, her coat shiny black with splotches of white on her face. Addie would have been thrilled—would be thrilled—about this surprise. Beth—not so much. She was going to have to fly by the seat of her pants—so to speak. At the very least she needed to be polite.

“Thank you, Malik.”

“You are most welcome.”

Beth tried to look confident when she put her hand on the horse’s neck. She knew enough that mare meant female. “Does she have a name?”

Malik smiled down at her, then chuckled when the horse nuzzled his shoulder. “As she is yours, you must choose what to call her.”

“Jezebel.” It was the first name that came to mind—from one shameless woman to another. At his questioning look, she shrugged. “I like the sound of it.”

“Then Jezebel it is. I will have two horses saddled and we can ride—”

“No.”

He frowned. “I do not understand. I was under the impression that my betrothed enjoyed riding.”

“She does.” On top of everything else, Beth realized she was talking in the third person, but technically it was the truth. Addie loved riding.

“Then I’m at a loss.”

“It’s just that I’m a little tired—”

“But you slept well.”

And yet again her words came back to bite her. Oh, what a tangled web we weave…

“I did. But I lost count of how many time zones I crossed traveling here. I guess I’m still getting used to the difference. Jet-lagged.”

“Another time, then. I should have waited, but I was anxious to give you this gift.”

“I’m definitely surprised,” she said, feeling like slime. “It’s very thoughtful of you.” Again, that was the truth. And, stretching it a bit, she said, “But I have to confess it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a horse. I’m probably pretty rusty.”

“Then we must make it a priority when you are sufficiently acclimated and well rested.”

And by that time, if Beth hadn’t alienated all the gods, Addie would have gotten her out of this situation.

“I’ll look forward to that.” She gave Jezebel one last pat on the neck, then walked out of the stables. Standing on the bottom rung of the fence, she rested her arms on the top and stared at the mountains in the distance.

Bha’Khar had a beauty all its own, and the air here seemed full of romance. While Malik would be nice to look at over breakfast every morning, there was more at stake than an unpleasant view. Beth had been watching her sister’s back for as long as she could remember, and she couldn’t stop now. Unless she could somehow convince Malik that this tradition was wrong there was every chance that Addie would be disowned. In Beth’s view that would be preferable to Addie marrying and falling for him, because he would probably play by the rules of powerful men and break her heart with his infidelity.

Malik stood beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin. “You are looking most pensive about something. Would I be wrong to assume it is about our betrothal?”

“You would not.”

“Tell me what you are thinking.”

She sighed. “It just seems wrong to map out a person’s life and rob them of free will.”

“That is one point of view. Mine is that traditions are reassuring. And the custom of royal betrothal is even more reassuring than most. If you truly object to the marriage, you have only to say so.”

“If only it were that simple,” she said softly.

Her father would be furious. She and Addie had grown up under their father’s thumb, learning to please him and trying to earn a rare word of praise in the battle to win his love. But Beth had realized early on that rebellion garnered his attention as following the rules did not. Finally she had come to the conclusion that he would never love her. Addie would become a queen, but she, Beth, was nothing special. So she’d followed her heart and become a teacher. When he had disowned her for choosing career over waiting for marriage, as he’d ordered, she hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.